anches over the fire, so that the
downpour of rain should not put it out. It was about dusk when he found
Ruth and Frieda standing outside their tent door watching with white,
nervous faces the big clouds roll together in a black mass.

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Miss Drew?"
Ralph asked. "You have been awfully good to me, and I can't tell you how
I appreciate it. Why, this day with you has been almost like running
across my own people here in this wilderness. But if there is nothing I
can do, I had best move on to find some sort of shelter for the night
before the storm gets worse."

Ruth put out her hand, impulsively clutching Ralph's coat sleeve.
"Please, please don't leave us until Mr. Colter and Jack and Carlos
return," she begged. "I told them I would not be worried if they did not
get back until quite late, but this storm makes us feel so much more
lonely and frightened."

Ralph patted Ruth's hand reassuringly. "Of course I won't go if you
would like me to stay," he answered cheerfully. "And you mustn't be
alarmed. I'll watch the fire to keep it from going out, and when your
friends return, I'll roost in a tree, like 'Monsieur Chantecler,' and
wake you first thing in the morning."

Ruth smiled, and Olive, who had come out of the tent with Jean, looked
less forlorn; but Jean, although she was devoutly glad they were not to
be left alone, could not cheer up. She walked apart from the others, not
wishing them to guess how uneasy she felt about Jack. Of course nothing
was going to happen, but she wished she had not accused Jack of being
selfish the day before.

Ralph Merrit came over and stood silently at Jean's side for a moment.
He felt twice her age and was actually eight years older.

"I did not know you would mind my shot this afternoon," he began stiffly
in the fashion in which a man usually apologizes. "If you had been
brought up in a city and were unused to hunting I might have understood
your feeling. As it was I----"

Jean's cheeks flushed in the somber twilight. Already the first drops of
rain were falling. Ruth was calling them inside the tent.

"I hope I have not been rude," she said. "I ought to have explained to
you that I can never bear to see anything killed. My cousin, Jack
Ralston, and the overseer of our ranch, Jim Colter, both think I am
awfully silly because I never go hunting with them even when they are
after wild game, though I can shoot pretty well. But